


Just One More Breach...

by MissC3PO



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg!Bright, One Shot Collection, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissC3PO/pseuds/MissC3PO
Summary: What would happen is a bunch of shippers ran the SCP Foundation?Well....





	1. Skip-J

**Author's Note:**

> SCP-035, 049, and 049-j have a pleasant stroll- and more.
> 
> In this fic, SCP-049 and 049-j are humans, so they can take off their cloaks and masks and stuff.  
You don't like any of that- just don't read.

It was another hectic day at Site 19.

SCP-096 was tearing apart peeping toms, while SCP-106 was trying to get 096 to go down into his pocket dimension for a little fun time. 

Doctor Bright and SCP-682 were partaking in a type of activity that really shouldn't be done. But 682 regarded Doctor Bright as one of the few humans that could understand the giant lizard. So that brought talk, which brought innuendos, which brought hentai to be sold to the Germans. 

MTF where getting torn apart, or their minds tore apart by the things they saw. 

And poor SCP-173 was reminiscing about his choking fetish. 

Just a normal breach at Site 19.

In the lower levels of the site, three entities were taking a stroll. Pleasant chatting filled the silence, paced by the rhythmic sounds of boots clacking on metal floors. 

"Now Little J, what did your mother tell you about touching MTFs?" A masked figure said, a frown on his white comedic face. 

"That since I'm not a doctor, I can mess up my touch and get me hurt." A young plague doctor looked up to the masked man, and shook her head sadly, "I just wanna prove to mommy that I can be a doctor."

"There is no need to prove anything to me," a man with a white mask on said, his British accent calming but mysterious, "You have great potential, which one day will make you a great doctor." He paused, and most likely smiled, "You and I will cure the pestilence together.”

The little plague doctor looked up at the taller one, who went by the name SCP-049. His true name never came to his mind, and the few numbers mixed together made for a catchy little alias. 

“Oh 049,” the other masked entity, who was under the designation 035, said, “You should know that she’s become stronger. Haven’t you heard the doctors speak of her ‘accomplishments?” 035 cocked his fingers into quotation marks. 

“Yes, I have.” 049 curtly responded, “But I don’t know if turning a researcher into a black goo dripping monster is an accomplishment.” 

“She was about to tase you, mom.” the little plague doctor said, playing with a shoe she stole from a dead MTF, “So I used my touch. She did have the pestilence.” 

“I’m very proud of her, aren't you?” 035 touched 049’s beak, “I would be if I were the one who shoved her out of my arse.” 

“Don’t say that in front of her,” 049 placed his hands on the sides of the little one’s head. “049-j doesn’t need to have all that profanity in her head.”

“But all the doctors and stuff use that language all the time!” 049-j said with a laugh. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to use it too.” 049 droned, giving 035 a look of warning. 

035 rolled his host’s eyes and kissed 049’s beak. The plague doctor sighed and stood in place. He felt inky tentacles wrap around his body, passing under his cloak and rubbing his body. 

“Oh my,” 049’s face began to heat up, and he sensed inky pheromones start to waft around him. 

“You like that, don’t you?” 035 crooned, stroking 049’s cheeks under his mask. But the plague doctor pushed back, glaring at his lover.

“Not in front of 049-j.” He snapped, pointing the little plague doctor, who was playing with an MTF’s shoe. 035 sighed, and looked over to 049-j.

“Hey J, go have a tea party with some scientists or something- just stay away from the MTF’s.” 035 said, a smile forming on his inky face. The little plague doctor smiled with glee as she ran off to the elevator. The couple then continued after they heard the scared yelp of a D-class and the giggle of 049-j.

“My god she’s just like you.” 035 laughed, working on taking off 049’s robes. 

“That was a long time ago,” 049 work on taking off his mask, “No longer do I have my touch, nor do I sense the pestilence in anyone. I do not find any reason to hunt for new subjects.” The mask came off, revealing 049’s pale white face with long black hair and stubble. His eyes stayed a mix of yellow and green, but no longer glowed or had a black rim around it. 

“You are just as enticing as you were when I first met you,” 035 threw the cloak back, revealing 049’s ashen skin. His ribs stuck out a little, and his spine was very visible from under his skin. “They must not be feeding you enough,” 035 laughed.

“I am fed well,” 049 sighed, feeling 035’s tendrils weave themselves around his body. A wave of delight filled 049’s body, making him gasp.

“Well, I would at least ask for some more to eat. The foundation seems to not know about your state of body under those cloaks.” 035 pushed 049 against a desk, clasping the plague doctor's hands. 

“Well, It’s difficult to say no to you, 035,” 049 exclaimed as 035 pressed his host’s body into his, “So when this breach is over, I will request more substance.”

“Good,” 035 huffed, his inky extensions gripping the doctors tightly. 049 cried out with pleasure, his face flushing. “You deserve better than what this foundation gives you, my dear.”

“You speak such soothing words, 035,” 049 moaned. A tentacle stroked 049’s chin and cheeks, soothing the plague doctor. 

049-j was wandering around the facility, watching the chaos. She had to sneak past the many D-Class, MTFs, and doctors running around the facility. She crawled up into the vents, where she was certain that the only one up there was her pal SCP-173. She crawled past him a couple of times, waving and smiling in a way only the most innocent can. 

“Hello, peanut!” She smiled, bumping into him. He looked at her with his large green eyes, not moving an inch. The little plague doctor kept smiling. Her smile was not fake, for she was always excited to see the fellow inhabitants of Site 19. 

“Hey.” a gravelly voice said behind her. In a blink, the statue was behind her, crawling away . 

“See ya!” 049-j cheered, crawling the opposite way. Her bright yellow eyes shone in the dark, catlike but sweet. She started to hum a little song she heard over the SCP radio, one that 035 would sing in his cell.

“Soon it will be over. Try to survive, don’t wait and die,” She sang, popping out of a vent and falling to the floor. Her robes fluttered as if they where the wings of a caged dove.

“Soon you will be a soldier, be brave, don’t cry, and fight for your life,” She landed on the ground in what was known as a superhero landing. But she was no superhero to the D-Class she landed in front of. 

“‘Cause the end is nigh!”

She ran after the D-class, giggling happily. 

“Come on! I just wanna play!” she laughed, as a black inky tentacle sneaked out of her sleeve and wrapped around the D-classes body. The D-class shrieked, but it was cut off by a little hand placing itself on his back.

The D-class waited for pain and death, but none of that came. 

“Let's have a tea party!”

The little SCP offered her hand to the D-class, gesturing to help him off the ground. The man looked at the hand, then the little SCP’s face. He grabbed her hand and found himself being pulled up with a strong force. 

“Well, thank you.” The D-class said, dusting his orange jumpsuit off. 049-j smiled under her mask and began to lead the man away. 

“So, what’s your name?” the pleasant plague doctor asked, her sweet voice carrying through the metal halls. 

“Ranger,” he said, with confidence. 

“Cool! You sound tough!” 049-j gasped, her eyes growing large with awe. The man brushed his brown hair out of his face, revealing one blue eye and an all-white eye. A nasty scar ran down his face, cutting through the white eye.

“I’m far from tough, little lady,” he laughed, “I was just jumped by some dudes and next thing I know is that I’m being imprisoned for assault and I’m half blind.”

“So, you’re not a bad guy?” she asked, patting his hair with a tentacle. 

“Nope.” Ranger smiled, “I was what's called ‘falsely accused’. I don’t even know who I quote on quote ‘assaulted’.” 

“Well, that’s not nice.” 049-j sighed, crossing her arms, “But I know what’s really nice.” she paused and smiled, “a tea party!”

“Well then, little lady,” Ranger bowed to her height and smiled, “let’s have a tea party.” He offered his hand to her, and she took it, like a princess taking a prince’s hand. 

“I never asked for your name,” Ranger laughed as they walked into a large room, with chairs and tables and a peculiar vending machine.

“My name is SCP-049-j,” the little plague doctor smiled, pressing a few buttons on the vending machine. The machine then filled a cup with sweet tea, sweetened with honey. “And this is SCP-294.”

“Well, not to offend you, but SCP-409, um, something something is a tad of a long name.” Ranger said, an embarrassed blush on his face, “ Do you have a nickname or something?” 

“Well, my dad calls me ‘Little J”, and some of the doctors I have tea parties with call me ‘Skip-J’.” 049-j smiled, not offended at all.

“Well, I’m gonna call you Skip-J.” 


	2. Bright Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 682/Bright
> 
> Mentions of smut
> 
> Hope you like!
> 
> Song referanced:  
Building Better Worlds  
By Aviators  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_mJIPXrdag

A normal breach. 

It was a normal everyday breach. Well, minus the fact that breaches were not an everyday ordeal. It was more of a biannual ordeal. But no matter what time a breach occurred, they were always destructive, wonderful, and expensive for the Foundation.

Very wonderful and terrifying in the eyes of Doctor Jack Bright.

The amulet wearing, chainsaw-wielding doctor was walking down the metal halls, the heels of his boots clicking on the ground. He was singing a song he heard earlier that day, one that was catchy and deep. The large red gemmed amulet swung around his neck, glittering in the pale light of the halls. 

“Now we’re building better worlds on the ashes of the past,” the doctor sang, voice echoing through the halls. A little ball of yarn then rolled up to Bright, it’s large eyes looking over him. 

“Eric?” The yarn ball asked, staring at Bright in an unnerving fashion.

“066,” Bright sighed, covering his ears as the annoying yarn ball began to blast classical music as it rolled away. 

Doctor Bright kept walking, smiling at D-class personnel as they ran past. He walked to heavy containment, where he swiped his card against a scanner. A door opened up, and the doctor sauntered through. 

“And they’ve been shattered, like broken glass. So we’re building better worlds on the ashes of the past. “ Bright hummed, touring the halls. Some of them seemed to have been blasted away, others covered in dark stains. He passed SCP-096, walking with a depressed slouch. Bright barely looked at him, due to its shy behavior. The doctor also had other things to do, and one was not being chased around the facility by a screaming creature. 

A loud roar shook the building, making little pieces of the ceiling rain down on Doctor Bright. 

“Alright alright, I’m coming.” Bright brushed the dust off himself and started to briskly walk to the source of the roar. The ground shook, dust flying everywhere. SCP-173 fell out of the vents, looking confused in only a way a statue can. 

Bright threw open the door to a lab and pushed back a body of a D-class that was taking refuge in there. Little did the D-class know that the place he hid in was the lab next to the containment cell of SCP-682: the unkillable, mutated, shapeshifting lizard.

Bright swiped his card against another scanner, and a door opened. The sassy doctor waved at the body and closed the door. 

In front of him was a huge glass building. Inside the glass was tones of green-tinted hydrochloric acid, bubbling slightly. Bright stared at it, his brown eyes glowing with the green tints of the acid. 

The doctor then walked over to a lever and pulled it down. A deafening noise erupted from underneath Bright, who jumped a little. The gurgling of draining acid filled the enormous room, a crescendo of waves and sizzles.

When the acid was all drained away, a lone figure stood in the middle of the glass building. He walked with huge strides, his footsteps echoing on the tile. Long black hair was draped across his face, mysterious and foreboding. 

The nude man approached the glass wall between him and the doctor. He stood there, looking at his foggy reflection. Then a fist flew threw the wall, spraying glass shards, blood, and shreds of skin everywhere. Bright dodged most of the shrapnel, but one large glass shard impaled itself into Bright's stomach. 

“Holy shit,” Bright moaned, holding his stomach, “I think the grand, dramatic entrance was not needed.” Bright fell onto his knees, looking at the blood on his hands. 

“I’m sorry doctor,” the man said, walking through the mess of glass and blood. He looked at his hand he used to punch the glass. It was bloody and shredded up. It was almost just bone. But the hand started to weave itself together, tendons holding things in place while dark brown and green skin covered the exposed flesh. “I was not caring for the constant glass version of me staring back at me for many months. It was my revenge.” The man grabbed a jumpsuit left on a shelf and put it on.

“On glass. Ok.” Bright moaned, “but it seemed to also be revenge on my gut.”

The man picked Bright up and carried him out of the room and into the lab. He set him down on a table and started rummaging through cabinets and drawers. 

“Where do they keep bandages or a first aid kit?” the man said, throwing things all around. 

“There’s some 500 over there,” Bright pointed to a drawer, his body shaking and eyes blurry. He heard the noises of someone throwing open a drawer, and the shaking of pills in a bottle. The next thing he knew was the man was putting a pill in his mouth. 

“Thank you,” Bright moaned, pulling the glass shard out of his stomach. He felt himself heal up and he no longer felt dizzy from blood loss.

“I thought 500 was stored in a cell, not randomly in a lab.” The man pondered, offering a large hand to help Bright stand up.

“I took a few, said I was doing some experiments on them, but I stored a few of them here just in case you or I get hurt.” Bright laughed, “I don’t like constantly changing bodies.”

“How scandalous, Doctor,” The man laughed, placing his clawed hand on Bright’s shoulder. 

“I got it from the best,” Bright shrugged, then gestured to the man, “you, 682.” The man stood up straighter, and let his long lizard tail wave with pride.

“Hey, you’re the only reason I’m not tearing this Foundation apart.” 682 laughed, a booming noise that Bright loved. 

“And by the way, I love your… umm,” Bright blushed, trying to find the right word to say.

“My body? I took ‘inspiration’ from you humans.” 682 looked at himself and picked at a claw. 

“Yes. That,” Bright blushed, a crimson glow behind his glasses, “Hey, stupid question,” Bright blushed harder, and looked at 682’s pants.

“Yes. I have what you’re thinking about.” the lizard smiled, a toothy grin, “And it’s fully functional.” Bright blushed more and leaned up against the tall man.

“Let's take a walk, a lab isn’t the greatest place for, you know.” Bright made an ok sign with one hand then stuck a finger into it with the other hand. 682’s eyes widened, and he smiled.

“Will your office suffice?” 

“Man, that was good.” Bright laid on the ground, shirtless and covered in sweat. His amulet lay on his chest, glimmering in the dull light of his office. A smirking 682 sat next to him, nonchalantly smoking some SCP-420-j.

“And this is some good shit.” he sighed, puffing out some smoke. 

“It is,” Bright sighed, snuggling up closer to 682, “ah, this is nice. An immortal scientist and an unkillable lizard. No better couple in the world.”

“In all dimensions.” 682 smiled, and flicked away the rest of the joint, “I still think it’s nice that many years ago, we met in a breach. Like this one.” the man remarked, kissing Bright’s cheek. 

“I was running around, trying to keep away from the MTFs”

“And you ran into me, the giant lizard who saved you from the bullets of Nine-Tailed Fox.”

“Two immortal beings, talking away the night. I was the one who convinced you that not all humans were evil, selfish beings.” Bright smiled, pressing his cheek into 682’s chin.

“And now, breaches are such wonderful events.”

“And now, Keter duty is such a wonderful time.”

“I’m glad I have you,” 682 ruffled up Bright's hair, and let Bright lean on him.

“I am too.” Bright kissed 682’s chin and leaned on his smooth, scaly chest. 

Bright laid down on 682, thinking about nothing in particular. He gazed into 682’s green eyes, lost in the slits of darkness and the glimmers of white light. 682 noticed, and stroked Bright’s hair, whispering sweet nothings into Bright’s ears. Bright’s face turned pink, and he smiled. 

“Now we’re building better worlds from the ashes of the past.”


	3. A New Way To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCP-682 has been pondering a change of heart. All it takes is a few loving nudges from a horny and hurt Bright...
> 
> In this there is a parody I made to a song called "A New Way To Go". It's from The Lion Guard.  
I may post lyrics soon :D  
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nt-Yr99ODA0

“What are you looking at, freak?” A man barked at a pale statue. The statue, best known as SCP-173, was looking at the freakishly tall man.  
“Move bitch!” The man yelled, pushing the statue aside. He then walked away, and as he did that, a bunch of eyes appeared on his back. They stared at the statue, who almost seemed to be shaking. In a way only statues could, he slinked away into the darkness, getting back to preying on D-class.  
“This is a load of shit,” the scaly man mumbled, “I have to be stuck here among a bunch of bastards. Lucky Bright is a doctor, he gets to do anything he wants, at least so it seems.” The man scratched at the label on the front of his shirt. SCP-682.  
“You don't have to be a beastie who wants to kill all of humanity. After all, SCP means Secure, Contain, and Protect.” Bright always said, emphasizing the ‘protect’. “Just think about this, do we have to protect people from you, or will you protect others?”  
682 was walking to Brights office, something he had done every breach. His old friend SCP-079 loved causing containment breaches, and the unkillable lizard man and old AI started to orchestrate them more often. It gave 079 a better view of his prison, and let him enjoy watching his captors be punished for their crimes against him. 682 would walk around, trying to find Bright, and most of the time he did. He could smell him, no matter what body he was in.  
That was what 682 was doing as he ran into his nemesis, SCP-173. The stupid ass statue who annoyed 682.  
The lizard in humanoid form kept walking, trying to find the scent trail of Doctor Bright again. The sweet, light scent of his soul was intoxicating, like cherry blossoms. 682 was not one to love beautiful things, but Bright’s fragrance was a beautiful thing that the reptile loved dearly. He finally was able to pick up the scent, and he followed it around to low containment. The scent got stronger, strawberries and roses up to the offices.  
But another scent filled the air. The smell of gunfire, hate and mold. The lizard humanoid realized that the scent he smelled was not him. He knew his own scent like that back of his huge hands. 682 kept trying to track Bright, but the other smells were becoming too much. That’s when it hit him. He was smelling Bright’s fear. Bright was in trouble.  
682 instantly changed, both in deminor and body. His spine arched, and knife like protrusions covered his back and tail. He roared, an inhuman noise. His face became a long snout, with yellow eyes peering out of the bony sockets. His hands became long claws, his ribs protruding through his sides. He looked a lot like his lizard self, just smaller. He hissed and chased the scent trail, following it to Bright’s office.  
682 heard a scream, a yell of pain.  
“Bright!” he roared, knowing that voice from anywhere. He burst through the office doors, throwing back a band of D-class. There were about six D-class, three now that 682 had thrown them across the room made them collide with the hard wall. The lizard looked at the wall, smiling at the sight of blood and organs laying around it. It looked as if they exploded, for there was not much left of them. Blood splattered across the walls, and tissues were hanging everywhere.  
“Sixy!” a familiar voice cheered. 682 looked around the room to see Bright laying on the ground, blood pooling around his leg. His lab coat was missing in action, and his green shirt was tattered. But a huge smile covered his face, his eyes shining. “I knew you’d come for me!”  
682 smiled, but noticed the three other D-class. They were dazed, gripping their makeshift knives and shiny pistols with white knuckle grasps. They backed up from the wounded Bright, their boots and jumpsuits covered in their partners blood. They backed up against a wall, giving 682 an easy target.  
“Who’s first?” 682 growled, eyeing the three. The intelligent lizard noticed one was holding a knife that was covered in blood. From the scent 682 was able to tell that it was his lovers blood. “I guess I already know,” 682 laughed, showing his large white fangs to the knife D-class.  
682 stood up on his hind legs, and opened his large mouth. A roared then erupted out of the lizard, deafening. The roar blasted throughout the office, sounding throughout the whole faculty. The roar of millions of lions, guttural and powerful. The three D-class personnel's skin began to shred off their bodies, peeling away layer by layer. Skin, muscles, fat and bones. Soon, nothing was left of the D-class but their clean bones. They shone in the dim light of the office, glittering. The giant lizard nodded at the pile of bones, and turned around to Bright. The injured doctor sat against the wall, covering his ears with his hands. He smiled, a bright but weak smile that melted 682’s heart.  
“Are you alright?” The lizard asked, slowly transforming back into his more mobile and fitting humanoid form. He kneeled in front of Bright, and looked at his leg.  
“Yah, I'm fine.” Bright laughed, paling from the blood loss. His eyes began to close, like he was going to sleep. 682 put his hands over the wound, and started to apply pressure.  
“Come on! I don’t want to have you visit that cloning forest again!” 682 roared, knowing how Bright had become more attracted to his original body than before. It’s red hair and soft features enticed 682, and Bright knew that.  
“Jack! Please?” 682 sighed, tearing out some of his long, thick, black hair and making a tourniquet out of it. His hair began to grow back, as it always did. “Snap out of it!” The beast roared, shaking Bright.  
“Shh,” Bright lifted a finger to 682’s lips, causing him to break out of his near rampage.  
“Jack,” 682 mumbled, his heart rate dropping to normal.  
“I’m alright- just let me rest.” The doctor said, his voice a whisper. He then pointed to a shelf, where a little medical kit sat. The man leapt up and grabbed it, and sat back down next to Bright. He began to patch up the injured doctor, working feverishly. The wound was a deep knife wound, which had severed a few nerves and punctured a major artery.  
“Thank you,” Bright would mumble occasionally, as 682 would be working on patching up the wound or cleaning it. Soon the bleeding completely stopped, and the leg was looking a lot better. The humanoid gently wrapped the wound, careful of his long claws.  
“There. You should heal up soon. I did wish you had some 500 here,” 682 stood up, looking over Bright. Jack looked up and 682 and smiled. The humanoid cocked his head, unsure why Bright was smiling. Anything that humans did was a bit absurd in 682’s mind though.  
“Why are you smiling?”  
“Because I can.” Bright laughed, his eyes pleading.  
“I can tell that you want something more,” 682 sighed, sitting down next to Bright.  
“A cup of-”  
“No.” 682 hoarsely said, remembering the last time Bright drank that extra fine cup of unrealistic horror 682 witnessed.  
“It felt so good,” Bright moaned, a light pink blush forming on his cheeks. 682 rolled his eyes, knowing all about the doctors and his urges.  
“You are injured, you need to rest.” 682 snapped, grabbing a fire blanket near him and draping it over Bright. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it would keep the doctor warm.  
“Fine,” Bright pouted, fidgeting with the red gemmed amulet around his neck. 682 smiled, and nestled up next to Bright, feeling his heartbeat and slightly labored breathing. His breathing was becoming less labored as the two laid there, waiting for the breach to come to an end.  
682 would caress Brights head or body, and occasionally kiss him. He would hold him close if he heard noises outside the office, the sounds of gunshots and the screams of the D-class in the femur breaker. Bright would stir a little, but nothing really phased him.  
Soon, the MTF’s took control of the facility, and 682 was escorted back to his holding area. No longer was it an acid filled cell, but it was still a cell. It had a bed, sink and such. 682 requested it for his humanoid form. The scientists made it that they could watch him, and in case of a bad attitude, be able to pump hydrochloric acid into the room.  
“It’s still better than that bloody glass bowl,” 682 mumbled as he laid on his cot. He was playing with his claws, bored out of his mind. He was still thinking about Bright, lying injured on the ground of his office. 682 kept watching in his mind Bright be picked up by an MTF like a sack of potatoes while 682 was being electrocuted.  
“I wish they would stop treating me like some wild beast. I’m more civilized than them, those hosh posh scientists should know that.” 682 grumbled, pawing at the burn scales on his tail and arms. They were slowly healing from electrocution, but it still stung. That was one of the downsides about his humanoid body.  
“But I at least did what I could to help Bright, shouldn’t they at least acknowledge that?” 682 thought, sitting up, “I didn’t hurt him, it was those damned D-class.” the man shook his head, and cocked an eyebrow, “damn, I’m becoming soft for a scientist. But, that doesn’t really feel that bad. It feels even better than 999!”  
682 stood up, and began pacing the room.  
“Why am I so confused? Ugh, it used to be so simple.” 682 growled, swishing his tail around, “What changed? Damn!”  
Another damned breach alarm went off, and all the doors began to open up. 682 looked around, confused. He didn’t know what was going on, for once it wasn't his works. He walked out of the cell, and looked around the halls.  
“Why do I feel this way inside?” 682 sang, walking around the facility, “Bright doesn’t fear me, he’s been saving my hide!” He passed 173, and for once didn’t push him to the ground.  
“It’s like,” 682 thought, still confused, “I know he buys the whole SCP agenda. I mean, Secure, Contain, Protect’s kinda catchy all right?” 682 shook his head, skirting around a blast hole in the ground from the last breach.  
“But I’ve got some big master plan. I wouldn’t give myself something to big for me to do, would I?” 682 used his tail to sweep the legs of some D-class, but that was all he did.  
“What side of the fight?” 682 asked himself, his tail swinging to the breach alarm. “Could it be, maybe, that Bright was right?”  
“SCP means Secure, Contain, and Protect,” 682 remembered Bright telling him that, in sort of a sing-song voice. He would always put an emphasis on protect.  
“Oh no, it’s set something off inside my brain,” 682 scratched his head, messing with his long black hair. He tried to catch the scent of Bright again, but wasn’t able to. He just wanted to know that stupid-ass Jack was alright.  
“He says I can trust ‘em but I don’t know,” 682 said, watching some scientists run around like headless chickens, “could there really be a new way to go?”  
“Say yes instead of no with a new way to go,” 682 could almost hear Bright’s voice, but he had to remind himself that he had a very vivid imagination, “make an ally from a foe with a new way to go.” the lizard humanoid looked at a large sign that said “SCP- Secure. Contain. Protect.”  
“Bright always eats, I’m always hungry.” 682 growled, picking up the scent of SCP-458 being used by 049-j and D-class personnel Ranger. Double pepperoni, double cheese with olives on top. Stuffed crust too.  
“Bright’s got a team, I’m goin’ lonely.” 682 looked at two scientists running by, hand in hand. One was carrying a med kit, another was carrying an anomalous duck. 682 finally was able to catch the scent of Bright, and he started to briskly run in the direction of the scent.  
“It’s like, I’d rather be happy than drowning 20 feet under in flesh eating acid,” 682 rolled his eyes, “ugh, what’s happening?” He kept running, up stairs and past researchers and that annoying earraping yarnball.  
“I think my future is looking ‘Bright’,” the red lights were flashing brightly, casting shades of red and orange on 682’s black hair. It looked edgy, maybe even cool. “Maybe the stuff I thought was wrong was right,” 682 sniffed the air and smelled the moldy smell of 106. He growled, and bared his teeth and claws. 106 emerged out of the wall, but retreated back at the sight of 682.  
“I think I like it, but I’m still undecided.” 682 puzzled,”How to choose? What to do?” He then saw Bright walking down the hallway, gingerly using a crutch to walk. He ran up to Bright and picked him up like a bride. Bright began to blush profusely, stammering.  
“I think I’ve decided,” 682 smiled, nuzzling Bright.  
“What?”  
“If they are gonna have to protect others from me or if I’ll protect.”  
“And?”  
“I’ve decided that I have a new way to go.”


	4. Rock Paper Scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SCP-999/SCP-173
> 
> Involves a semi-humanized SCP-173 and SCP-999 and transformation

Little did 173 know that tickling felt almost as good as choking. 

The statue stood in place, wishing to move. He quivered almost, shaking with unseen vibrations. A red sweat broke out of the statues forehead, dripping into his green eyes. He wanted to blink, to laugh, to scream, but he couldn't’. He had to stay still. It was the curse of his maker. He was the maker. 

Building the grotesque statue for the pharaoh weakened him, and it fell on him. Little did he know that the gold the statue he guarded was cursed. He was able to be revived, but his soul was in his ugly statue. Unable to blink or move when looked at. He wanted to break free of his prison of stone and paint. 

Now he desperately wanted to. With a little tickle monster crawling all over him, he wanted to scream with laughter. The orange blob was sticking tentacles into him, making him want to blush. But as a statue, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything he wanted to do. 

And this little orange jelly monster wasn’t helping.

“I liked you better when Bright accidentally ate you.” 173 thought with an inward grimace. 

The little creature kept climbing up and down 173, squealing and rubbing itself all over the stone statue. 173 sighed inside.

“I wish I could melt away these bonds and get even with that orgasm machine.” 173 snorted inwardly, feeling 999 drip down his face. 

But then a weird tingly sensation shot down 173’s spine. Then all his joints. A feeling of freedom swept over his body, making him scream in ecstasy. 

And he could actually scream. 

He started to uncontrollably giggle as he fell on the ground, the little slime monster still tickling the daylights out of him. 

“You do realize I can hear your thoughts?” a small voice said in the back of 173’s mind, “I may be a safe SCP, but I am sure a powerful genie.”

SCP-173 looked at 999, who had the cutest derp face. It was sure a sassy blob.

“Look at yourself, I fixed you up.” 

173 looked down at himself. He was still rock, but metal poles made bendable joints. His face could move like normal flesh. He could move his eyes, his tongue, his toes. He even had his yahoo. 

The statue stood up, and looked down at himself. He looked like a statue, but also looked like himself before the statue. He even had short grey hair on his head, like steel wool.

“Thank you,” 173’s voice cracked like stone, “Thank you 999.”

“Hey no problem,” the small voice said again, tickling the back of his brain, “I also did that for myself, ‘cause lets say you have been in my sights for a long time.” The statue swore he saw the jello blob wink. 

“Your wish is my command,” 173 blushed with a bow, knowing that after all of this, he sure did owe this annoying but amazing blob. 

“Good.” 999 laughed, a little more masculine this time. It’s body morphed into more of a masculine humanoid shape, and it walked closer to 173. He was taller than the statue man, and more handsome too. He was still unmistakably orange and shiny, and that was never going to change. 173 blushed a deep red in only a way a statue man would.

“Take me.” and the tickling began. 

Addendum 3

SCP-173 seemed to change after the last containment breach due to a geometric progression. The statue has a more humanoid appearance and is capable of moving while in the line of sight. Also SCP-173 is able to talk, and has supplied the Foundation with valuable facts about how it was created and its history. It has made no attempts that are hostile in any way, and only requests to see SCP-999 every week ‘or so’. 


	5. The Foundation Above The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly 682/Bright, but with some 035/049, 049-j/Ranger, and 999/173.
> 
> If you want to see one of the ships or a new ship in a situation or something, make a request! I'm all for requests! But for now they have to be SFW.
> 
> WARNING: CHAPTER INVOLVES A LITTLE BIT OF MPREG!!
> 
> Based on Peter Crowley’s song “The Kingdom Above The Sky”  
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDwYzJBtv9w

“This is so amazing!”

The night sky was filled with grey clouds and silver stars, sprinkled across the velveteen darkness. The sky seemed to dance with between light and dark, cool and warm. The moon stood high above the sky, shining with silver and gold. 

Above the clouds, a beast flew. Large dragon wings flapped smoothly, propelling it across the obsidian sky with ease. It’s large skull-like face glittered in the darkness, it’s dark mane flowing like the ocean waves below. 

It roared, thunder echoing through the sky and filling the snowy mountains below. 

“Woo Hoo!” a voice cried out, not as loud as the roar but still audible. It was the dragon’s rider, who was none other than the infamous Doctor Jack Bright. 

He sat on the back of the dragon, holding onto it’s scales and pelt for dear life. But he was enjoying it. His white trench coat flapped behind him, like the ivory wings of a dove. His smile shines like one million suns. SCP-963 hung on his neck, it’s ruby gem glowing in the light of the moon. Tiny diamonds shimmered like stars. 

“We can fly forever, with you by my side!” Bright sang, his face full of cheer, “The night sky our kingdom, we will rule forever!”

“The darkness our cover, but we will live forever.” The dragon roared, looking at Bright on his back. The dragon was the infamous SCP-682, transformed into a beast of flight and night. 

“We’ll live forever!” Bright sang, his voice carrying through the night sky. He lifted his hands happily, almost flying off the dragons back. But he stayed on. 

“This is very nice,” 682 rumbled, dipping into the clouds. Bright giggled, a childlike giggle of glee. The lizard and the man emerged from the clouds, covered in dew. A red blush covered his face, his reddish brown hair flowing. He grabbed his glasses off his face and rubbed them on his shirt to take care of the condensation that formed on the glass. He put them back on, and let out another whoop of joy. 

“You seem to be enjoying this experience,” SCP-682 nonchalantly said, almost smiling at Bright. 

“I love it!” Bright yelled happily, “I love you!” He hugged 682’s neck, warm and soft. 682 chuckled, a smile forming on his face. 682 started to fly higher and higher, his wings pumping furiously. A smile of power filled his face, glittering in the moonlight. The air became thinner, but the two did not care. They were closer to the moon, the stars, and each other. 

“Freedom from the rules, free with you by my side, We’re going to the kingdom above the sky!” Bright sang, his breathing a little more labored by the lack of oxygen. But the two kept going. The sky became chilly, and Bright snuggled up against 682’s body, watching the sky. 

Then, 682 stopped. 

They began to drop out of the sky, Bright screaming at the top of his lungs. 682 laughed, a booming noise that filled the sky. They fell threw clouds and the starry night sky, the dew and ice. Bright stopped screaming, his lunged ached for oxygen. His eyes stayed open, watching the earth come closer to them. The large mountain that housed Site 19 came closer and closer. 

Bright readied himself for the pain of broken bones and squished organs.

But it never came. 

682 opened his wings, and they flew back up into the sky with a whoosh of wind. A large roar of power filled 682, and it erupted out of him like an earthquake.

“This is so amazing!” Bright yelled, taking a gulp of oxygen. Color returned to his face, and he leaned over and kissed 682’s neck. A strange red blush covered 682, and they stopped in the sky. They stayed in place, not falling. 682’s body then morphed into a winged humanoid, holding onto Bright. His wings flapped gently, not even enough to stir up a cloud. The humanoid looked at Bright, holding him close to his chest. He lifted the doctor’s chin, and kissed him full on the lips. Bright melted into his embrace, kissing him back. 682 wrapped his long tail around Bright’s hips for stability, making him feel safer. 

“You are sure a damn good kisser,” Bright said, taking a breath after the kiss.

“I’ve learned from the best.” 682 kissed Jack’s cheek, warming up his cold face. The two embraced, high in the sky, waiting for morning to come.

“Night breaches are the best,” Bright sighed, curling up under 682’s chin. 682 nodded with agreement, and started to fly higher in the sky. 

The moon created a gorgeous silhouette that the SCP’s on the ground saw. Two men, one dragon and one doctor, all love and immortal. 

That could be us if you had wings,” 035 laughed, holding SCP-049’s hand. 

Standing next to them was SCP-049-j, a wonderfully grown up women. She was holding hands with her fiance Ranger, the D-class she met many years ago. The two leaned on each other, keeping each other warm on that winter night. 

Wrapped around the humanoid SCP-173 was SCP-999, giggling and kissing the statue’s cheek. 173 was blushing a deep red color, and was embracing the humanoid slime as best as he could. The two stood there, not saying a word. Their eyes glittered with stars.

The two in the sky soon came down to the ground, covered in dew and large smiles. The other creatures looked at the couple, smiling or just blankly staring at them. The humanoid dragon was handed an extra large jumpsuit by 049. Bright took off his damp lab coat and threw it into some snow covered bushes, causing some of the snow to shake off the plant and fly into the air. 

Some landed on the SCP’s and Bright, who laughed and began dancing in the dark and snow. They threw snowballs at each other and dived into the deep snow as if it were a heated swimming pool. 682 used his wings as a shield for snowballs, and also used it to shield Bright too. 173 and 999 ended up going around tickling everyone, making a massive snowy tickle fight. 

While messing around, Bright suddenly stopped. A hand went to his stomach, warmed by his green sweater. It was slightly rounded in a suspicious way. Bright’s eyes darted everywhere, looking for 682. He saw him, using his wings and claws to swat away 999 and snowballs in a playful manner. Bright caught his attention, and 682 walked over to him with a playful smile on his face. Bright rubbed his sweater covered stomach, and joyfully laughed.

“Sixy,” Bright whispered, looking that the tall dragon man, “she’s kicking,” Jack smiled, tears forming in his eyes, “she’s kicking.”


	6. Burning Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Hurt and Comfort with 106 and 096.  
More on them soon :D

It was another dark, murky day at Site 19. The sky was dark and threatened to rain. The air all around the site felt humid and dank. Everyone was feeling it too. Scientists, researchers, MTF members and SCP’s alike where moody, their mood dark like the impending storm. Everyone and their kin was grumpy, troughing here and there. Work was done halfheartedly, and no SCP testing was done. It was a very unproductive day.

Thunder soon began to clap outside, and the rough downpour of rain echoed throughout the site. What little windows there were only showed the downpour of water from the sky. 

The breach alarm sounded, alerting the tired scientists and instilling hope back into the hearts of the caged monsters. 

“Take on me,” sang an instance of 939, walking to an elevator.

“I’ll be gone,” 173 sang, a smile on his face as he held 999 in his arms.

“In a day or two!” 682 and Bright where running around the site, cheer and goodwill in every step. They called themselves the SCP Breach Protection Unit- making sure that no SCP, scientist, MTF or anything was horribly injured during a breach. Alongside that, SCP-682 was reclassified “Euclid” due to how he mellowed out. Bright was still playful and rambunctious, even know he was heavily pregnant with his and 682’s daughter. 

049 and 035 pranced around, messing with medical tools and snatching books and kisses for the libraries and each other. 049-j and Ranger Delta, her boyfriend, where not far behind. The two loved to have makeout sessions, Delta removing the woman's mask and revealing her dark, mellow face and bright yellow green eyes. 

Most SCP’s where having a great time, minus one. A tall, pasty man. His eyes where downcast and depressed as he walked around, his entire posture telling everyone “don’t come near me, don’t hurt me.” His social anxiety led him to rage, which lead to his rapid decline in his health. That lead to him becoming a monster, one that the foundation had to protect the public from. He knew he couldn’t be freed, but he wanted to become a better person. He quit hurting people who looked at him, and he did his best to stay invisible. It was working a little bit, but people still turned their faces from him and whispered snide comments about him. He did not like that one bit. It set off an awful feeling in his stomach, one that seemed to never go away. 

It was days like this that 096 was able to just walk around and enjoy the fresh air. Being cooped up in a containment cell was boring and stuffy. Finally, he was able to stretch his legs and arms out, long and hideous in many people's eyes. Finally he got to see more than just metal walls and low lights. 

He walked by a sleeping D-class and smiled. He took the jumpsuit off the man and put it on himself. He finally looked a little more normal, covering his jutting out bones and ash white chest. He kept walking, enjoying the sounds of rain. 

“I’ll be gone, in a day or two!”

As 096 was walking, he felt a presence behind him. A very familiar one. 

“106…” 096 whispered, feeling hot breath down his neck. He shivered, a chill running down his bony spine. 

“Well hello, my little friend,” A hand grabbed 096’s shoulder and jerked him around. 

“This relationship is becoming very violent,” 096 rolled his eyes, “You should maybe a little more, shall I say, gentle? Less spooky around me?” 

“But that takes away all the fun,” 106 rolled his eyes. He then grabbed 096’s wrist and pulled him into the dark stain on the wall. 096’s eyes popped open as he went through the wall, stinging his eyes. As he emerged on the other side, tears were already pouring from his pale eyes. He shook his head and looked around, trying to shake off the dizziness 096 always got going into the pocket dimension. 

“Hello, and welcome again,” the radical man licked his lips, “my dear.”

“Please, don’t ‘my dear’ me,” 096 snapped, pushing away the barbecue sauce man. “I love you, but this relationship seems really- oh what's the word,” 096 thought for a bit, then snapped his fingers, “ah ha! Abusive!”

“Abusive?” 106 asked, shocked, “why would you call our relationship such a harsh word? I know me ‘seducing’ you was not the greatest, but at least-”

“No at leasts!” 096 yelled, his voice echoing throughout the pocket dimension, “I hate being pulled into your dimension! I hate making love with you but being burned by you- well, whatever it is. I hate how I’m a monster! I hate how our relationship is all painful ‘smut’ and no ‘fluff’!”

“That the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I really don’t know, it’s just something Bright says all the time.” 096 shrugged, rolling his eyes, “well, I’m just trying to say, I want to be loved! I want to be cuddled- not spooked and pulled here and there.”

“I’m, I’m sorry,” 106 stammered, a bit of the viscous leaking off his body, “I just was well, doing what I thought I was supposed to. I’m a bit new to this ‘love’ thing myself.” the fluids dripped off 106’s face and body, revealing an older tanned man with nice dark hair. 

“That’s the way I like you, Larry.” 096 blushed, hugging the man close. The man blushed, and kissed 096 on the forehead.

And for once, it didn’t burn.


	7. A Good Night at SCP-1472

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was reading the article about SCP-1472 and was like- wow- Bright would totally dance there!  
http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-1472
> 
> Ships in this:  
682/Bright  
Background 999/173  
Background 035/049  
Background 049-j/Ranger

“God damn Saturdays,” a man said, standing in the darkness outside an empty building. The sun had set many hours before, but a warm breeze still filled the town of Saint Louis, Illinois. It was quiet, a little too quiet from the MTF team “Hard Knocks”. A few men, dressed in civvies stood around an abandoned-looking red building, small pistols in hand. 

Trees, burdened by the fall leaves shook in the warm breeze. The roads were still a little slick from the rain that fell last night. 

“1:58 am.” one of the Hard Knocks whispered, looking at the building. There was still nothing that seemed off about the building.

“1:59 pm.” Still nothing.

“2:00 pm.” Lights turned on inside the building, and a bouncer looking man stepped outside. He turned on a neon sign which flashed a few times before staying on.

“Exotic Girls (or Equivalent).” The sign glowed neon pink, enticing and fresh on that warm night. 

A white van them pulled up in front of the building, brakes screeching. There were many loud sounds coming from the van, which made the guards around the building confused. They approached the can, pistols at the ready. 

That was until a giant lizard man burst out of the van. He easily threw back the guards, nothing more than a smile on his face. 

“I thought you said Bright would be meeting us here.” a comedy masked man hopped out of the van, a frown on his drippy face. He was known by SCP-035. 

“Hey, with or without Bright, we’ll have fun,” a statue man known by SCP-173 hopped out of the van behind 035. A plague doctor, old man, another plague doctor, a half-blind man, and a pale figure hopped out of the back of the van, stepping over the knocked out guards.

“This really wasn’t my idea of a ‘goodnight’.” the plague doctor, also known as SCP-049 said, shaking his head. 

“Oh come on,” the older man laughed, putting an arm around the taller pale man next to him, “I haven’t been at one of these places ever since the war. They are amazing, no matter what time period.”

“It seems so, animalistic,” 049 said, rolling his eyes, “drooling over other beings as if we are dogs. How disgusting.” 

“It’s not droolin’ over things,” 035 nudged 049, earning a small grin from him.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“We’re paying them to drool over ‘em!” 035 laughed, slapping the doctors back. The doctor's eyes popped open in disgusted shock, but he still kept walking into the brightly painted building. 

“Were the absolute fuck is Bright?” 682 growled as he and the other SCP’s entered the building, taking in the cozy, sexy atmosphere. 

“Jeez, I bet he’s just taking his sweet time,” 106 rolled his eyes, sprawling out of a velvetine couch with 096, “He might be making sure Lizzy is alright.” Lizzy was Bright’s and 682’s seven-month-old baby.

“I’m pretty sure Light’s takin’ good care of her.” 682 grumbled, sitting on a blue silky sofa, toe-tapping to the song playing over hidden speakers. He wasn’t going to admit it, but this was one of the giant lizards/lizard human's favorite hangouts. 

Soon the first dancer was doing its thing on the stage. A pole dancing Morgan horse with goth piercings and attire. Wasn’t really something any of the Skips were into, but 106, 035, and Ranger Delta put a few dollars on the stage. The horse didn’t stop dancing, but a miniature horse with similar attire picked up the bills and placed them in its saddlebags. 

“Gotische Pferde is up right now,” 682 read off a sign, “then there’s the classic Helen Keller, Greek triplets, Jelly Dancer- never heard of that one- intermission, claw marks and teeth, Caesar’s dancers, and then” 682 paused, and then read quietly to himself;

“Surprise.” 

“I wonder what ‘surprise’ is.” 035 said, turning around to face 682. He was busy handing out dollars to Helen Keller and trying to remember which poem the stripper was randomly reciting. It was annoying, but 682 managed to survive. He sipped a strange drink that one of the bartenders was passing around. It faintly reminded him of vodka but also had hints of white vinegar. But he wasn’t one to complain. 

Three female Greek statues replaced Helen Keller, who was dancing and stripping out of their marble togas. Of course, they were all marble, but it was still a sight to see. But 682 didn’t even bother. He was still concerned about Bright. He did laugh when 035 tried dancing along with the statues, earning a giggle from 049 and lots of dollar bills from various patrons in the club. The statues were fine with it, they even danced around him as if he were a god. Delta and 049-j put up a few dollar bills, laughing. 

A cheery electronica song then came on, and the Greek dancers left. The pole was bare, but there was suddenly a very familiar scent in the general area. An orange creature then bounced onto the pole and morphed into a masculine shape. It was SCP-99, SCP-173’s lover. The statue man clapped wildly and blushed, tossing dollar bills at the man who caught them but kept dancing. 

682 was even shocked. He had never seen a fellow Skip up on the stage. It was a delightful surprise, but it wasn’t the ‘surprise’. 682 was now thinking about that, and also were ever the stupid ass Doctor Bright was. He leaned back on his sofa, trying to relax and enjoy the night. 999 twirled around the pole, doing various dances ranging from Irish dancing to cliche pole dancing. 

Soon 999 was done and the curtains closed, thus signaling the intermission. The Skip’s lounged around, gushing over 999’s performance. The orange man soon joined the SCP’s, laughing and hanging out with SCP-173. But there was still no sign of Bright. 

Velociraptor Maids, but still no sign of Bright.

Two manikins in togas, stabbing each other. But still no Bright. 

“Must be history night or something,” 049-j mumbled to 682, her whisper barely audible thought her pale mask. 

Then, Surprise. 

The curtains closed after the last manikin stabbed herself, and the audience of the club went quiet. 682 leaned forward in anticipation.

The curtains slowly opened up, and the cult favorite song “Lone Digger” streamed from hidden speakers. The stage was dark with little sparkles of light, like stars glimmering. 

“Hello, Sixy,” 

It was that familiar voice that shook 682 to the bone and made his eyes pop open in surprise. A high heeled, lab-coated figure leaned on the pole, amulet, and glasses flashing.

“Fuckin’ Doctor Bright.” 106 smiled, nudging 682’s side. 

A white and yellow pony appeared at his side, smiling and looking as high as a fighter jet. Her purple eyes flashed as she hopped around Bright, singing the lyrics of ”Lone Digger” in a hushed fashion. Bright has been known to have an obsession with the show “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic”, but this made it even more apparent. 

Bright swung himself around the shining pole, shimmying his body in ways that made 682 blush. He winked at the lizard man, smiling flirtatiously. 

“When did Bright ever have any time to learn how to pole dance?” 049 asked, his hollow voice tickling 682’s ears.

“I’ve never seen a Skip Doctor dance, let alone on a pole.” 035 remarked to 049, tapping his foot to the beat. “I’ve also never heard Electro Swing before- I like it.”

Glitter rained down from Bright’s hair and beard, falling onto his clothes and making him sparkle as he twirled. He took off his lab coat and threw it at 682, who caught it. Glitter fell off the coat and covered 682. The reptilian man laughed. He wrapped the lab coat around his neck as if it were a glittery scarf.

“Baby, can you move it ‘round the rhythm so we can ‘em to the ground and get us a rock and roll round?” The small horse sang into a hidden mic, her voice an alluring melody filling the club. She danced around Bright, who was swinging his body around as he removed his glittery, lime green tee-shirt. 

“Just a downtown body-body, comin’ with the super hottie. Yes? No? Hell No?” The pony asked the audience, a flirtatious smile on her face. Bright danced out of his pants, making 682 blush a warm green. 

“Baby, can you move it ‘round the rhythm? ‘Cause we’re livin’ in the fast lane, Speed up! This ain’t no game. Just turn up all the beams as I come up on the scene.” Bright winked at 682 and shimmied his body up and down the pole. The rest of the Skips were dancing around and throwing bills at him, laughing with glee. 

Bright through off his pants, having them land on 682’s head. 682 laughed, a booming sound that shook the club. But no one was fazed. A bunch of other creatures from different dimensions were even having fun, in their own interdimensional way. 

Soon, the song was over, and the little pony and Bright slipped off to back stage, leaving a bunch of Skips laughing and cheering. 

Bright showed up next to the van, a bright smile on his face. The little pony was beside him, saying it’s goodbyes and slipping into a portal. 682 ran up to Bright and lifted him up, laughing. 

“You were great my dear!” He laughed, twirling Bright around. He put the scientist down, and brushed some glitter off his hands.

“Aw, it was nothing,” Bright blushed, putting a shy hand to his mouth. He flicked some glitter out of his beard and greeted the rest of the SCP’s. 

After the commotion was over, they then hopped back into the van. 682 started the engine, and placed a hand on Bright's, who was sitting in shotgun. 

The sun began to rise, and the neon lights flashed off, leaving the street in an autumn grey and orange look. The van drove off into the sunrise, romantic, beautiful, and serene. 

“We should do that again,” Bright whispered, leaning on 682’s shoulder. 682 smiled, nad ruffled the scientists glittery hair.

“Yes we should,” He laughed quietly, “yes we should.”

It was a good night at SCP-1472


	8. Small. Got It.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More 096/106! This time we get more 096 and 106 being- well... them
> 
> Sorry about taking some time to get back to this fic- I'll be better about updating ^^

It wasn’t like foundation life was boring. It was just, repetitive. Meals at the exact same time and the exact same thing. It was a pain. Guards barely changed unless they were killed in action, which was very unlikely now due to Bright’s and 682’s peacekeeping actions. The poor lizard didn’t want to be neutralized, so he decided to become a better version of himself, a nicer version. He finally got, as some say, promoted down, to Euclid, which was a relief for him. He and Bright could finally become closer to each other and their new daughter, Lizzy. 682 no longer had to stay in an acid-filled cell, rotting away. 

But 682’s and Bright's relationship didn’t really matter to 106. It was his and 096’s feelings and relationship that mattered to him. He was working hard on becoming the best person for 096 and the Foundation. He was following in the footsteps of 682, hoping not to be neutralized and hoping to be ‘promoted down’ to Euclid. Being Keter sounds cool, but it’s constant pain and makes life a living hell. 

But for some reason, this day was special. 106, also known as Larry, was sitting in his cell, listening to the hushed whispers of scientists and guards outside. Larry didn’t know what was going on, but all he could tell is something big was about to happen.

The cell door opened, and shackles were put on Larry’s hands and neck. It hurt like crazy, it’s weight pressing down on his old wrists and shoulders. He was lead halls, endless like his old pocket dimension. 

He was then shoved into another cell, this one darker and more foreboding. His shackles were not taken off but just secured to the wall, binding the man. He started to choke, trying to scratch at his restraints to breathe.

“Someone… please! Help me!” 106 screamed, fighting to breathe. Spots started to flood his eyes, his face paling. 

A pale figure then filled his vision, fuzzy and blurred. A ghost, that's what it was. It seemed to be a ghost, coming closer and closer to the old man strapped to the wall. 106 started to tear up, his eyes filling with thick tears. 

“Please, don’t hurt me, I don’t know what's going on, please…” 106’s consciousness faded, and he hung on the wall, deathly silent. 

All was silent for a few moments, until the audible sound of chains clicking and chiming filled the room. Then, a click of cuffs opening up and 106 fell to the ground, gasping for breath. 

The old man looked up, his vision finally clearing. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to see a long slender hand in front of him.

“Do you need any help?” the pale figure smiled, still extending its hand to 106. 106 smiled, and grasped the hand. He was pulled up quickly, enough to make him dizzy. 

“Thank you, 096,” 106 smiled, brushing himself off. The two looked at each other for a minute, unsure of what happened and what to do next. There was nothing in that cell besides the cuffs, chains, and each other. 

“Congratulations!” A voice sounded from hidden speakers, spooking the two SCP’s.

“Whos there?” 096 squeaked out, shyly hiding behind 106. 

“You two have passed the test,” the voice paused, “You two have now been promoted down to ‘Euclid’.” a laugh rang out, “that was easy- amiright?”

“Sure, easy,” 106 rubbed his throat, still sore from the chains. 096 shook his head, and peeked out from behind 106.

“How come we’re Euclid now?” 096 inquired, his voice quivering.

“Simple. You both have shown that you are no longer a threat to humankind, the universe, and beyond. This was the last test to show that you two are changed for the better. you could have easily 106 you apart.” that was directed to 106, “And you, 106, could have easily reverted back to your old ways and gotten free.”

“That is true,” 106 realized. He was tempted to use his ‘powers’ again, but he didn’t. He didn’t even know why. He even forgot how he was able to do the things he did, it was such a long time ago. “But I’ve changed. I don’t need them anymore.” 106 shook his head, trying not to laugh, “I’m Euclid- I’m Euclid!” 

096 and 106 embraced, laughing joyously. 

“You two will be escorted to your new shared living corders immediately.” The voice said, nonchalantly. 

“Wait, will we be living together?” 106 asked, trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Yes, that’s what I just said.” The voice said, most likely rolling their eyes. 096 had to keep himself from embracing the older man to tightly. 

Soon, a few guards walked in, not even holding high powered weapons for once. They placed the two entities in cuffs and walked off with them, not saying a word. The two skips looked at each other in small glances, worried. It was normal but not normal for them to be led around like this, and this whole new experience was anxiety inducing. 

Finally, the two were led into a large cell. They were unchained and the lights were turned on, filling the concrete cell with warm light. There were two cots, looking plush and comfy compared to the mats in their old cells. There was a small kitchenette, with a microfridge and sink. No oven or stovetop, because that might get dangerous. There was a mat on the ground, plush and comforting compared to the rest of the concrete cell. There was an old worn sofa in a corner with a small table and chairs next to it. There was some lined paper on it alongside some heavily censored newspapers. 

“This… is… Heaven!” 096 shouted happily, running around. He jumped up and down on a cot and lept around the room with childlike glee. 

“Wow.” was all 106 was able to say, looking around the room with awe, “The foundation must be getting nicer everyday.”

“It sure is!” 096 kept up to 106, planting a kiss on his temple, “I wonder if they would let us get married, and have a pretty party, and moon of honey! Maybe they would even let us have kids!” 096 kept jumping around. They guy may be a couple hundred years old, but that didn’t stop him from having a childlike glee 24/7. The guy was even older than 106, er, Larry. 

“Now, now. Let’s not put too much strain on the foundation,” Larry laughed, trying to pat the taller man's head, “I’ve heard that 682’s already knocked up Bright again. That’s sure gonna put a big strain on the foundation.” 096 pouted a little. “But, maybe we could have a small ceremony and a small family…”

“Small. Got it.”


End file.
